Reflections on another day in quarantine.

As I sit on my sofa and contemplate the future possibilities or impossibilities of our business, for the hundredth time today, I log onto Instagram to check on how the world is doing.

My instinct dictates checking all media outlet stories, moving on to how other businesses are finding solutions to cope, and, as I desperately try to find answers and ideas, I catch one of my dearest friends’ IG story.

She’s posted a picture of herself on a train, wearing a mask, homemade by her mother, and she’s about to start her night shift.

Then a thought sinks in; one of my dearest friends is heading to work.

She’s helping make sure that an overloaded system doesn't collapse.

She is making sure that pregnant women still feel safe to deliver their babies while a pandemic is happening.

And she’s risking her own health to do this.

On top of being one of the most brilliant, beautiful, smart, funny people I’ve ever known, Imogen is in fact (and I know she’d laugh if I said it to her face) my hero.

This applies to all frontline workers, those wonderful members of our society who are putting themselves in danger to make sure that we continue to have access to medical care, security, food, your home delivery.

We should never take this for granted.

In these times what they are doing for us requires incredible effort and risk

(to themselves, and to their loved ones).

I wonder what it’s really like to be a frontline worker and how it feels to be in this job right now.

...

Thinking about this, I get incredibly apprehensive for Imogen so I decide to reach out and ask her when she will be home so we can FaceTime for a catch-up.

I am so happy to see her on a video call, we chit chat for a while but soon I ask her what’s the situation the hospital she works in.

As I mentioned Imogen is not a ‘crisis’ doctor working in ICU treating Covid-19 patients; she is an emergency doctor assisting women in giving birth which, let’s be honest, not even a pandemic can delay its progress or affect its course.

Being close to give birth or in labour is an uneasy and stressful moment for a woman. I can’t even imagine how this must feel in these unprecedented times.

Imogen tells me how crucial it is, even more than before, to reassure women and to take extra precautions for the mother and the baby.

Somehow though she tells me how it’s so easy to forget about the pandemic at the time of birth: her main focus is getting that little life out. And I guess that’s a beautiful thing to think about: miracles still happen - and she’s helping them happen - despite the virus threat.

She tells me she feels incredibly lucky to be with her co-workers and Easter has definitely given positive vibes to the maternity clinic, which was very much needed.

I tell her that I feel bad about being home, and that my worries almost feel frivolous when I think about what she and her co-workers are doing every day, but she points out how every single life is being impacted and it’s normal - everyone worries.

We talk about how human beings can adapt themselves to unfamiliar situations and how this pandemic has challenged us to change and live in a different way.

And more importantly, what makes it easier in a way, that we truly are all in this together.

Imogen and I end our call with the promise that, as soon as the lockdown is over, we will gather in her garden for a barbecue, in our best party outfit and I guess we could both show off some new L Fire shoes.

She managed once again to encourage me and made me smile.

...

It’s incredible sometimes when I think how staying home and social-distancing have turned into a ‘new normal’. Yet the basics of our lives, like having food on our table, for example, are still the same, because there are people out there making this possible. They haven’t stopped serving a purpose while others like me are comfortably at home.